


Green Bottle

by CherryIntestines



Category: The Walking Dead (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:39:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryIntestines/pseuds/CherryIntestines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenny gets drunk while Lee searches for Clementine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> The format looks weird on this site. Sorry if that bothers you all, but there's nothing I can do. I don't know how to fix it.

The room was grey and bleak, as was the two men residing in it. The boarded up windows only let in minimal light; enough to distinguish one’s surroundings at least. A stray strand of light from a partially covered window gleamed down onto a portrait of the mansion’s previous owners, revealing dust particles in its wake.  
The blue clad high school student sat silently, briefly glancing at the large painting before looking away with the sad nostalgia it brought him. The boy rubbed his finger tips into the sides of his forehead, as if the action would remove the unsettling thoughts racing through his troubled mind. More problematic than the portrait, the man sitting next to him was the one who make him feel remorse and guilt constantly from his past mistakes. Ben watched the southerner apprehensively as he gulped down a fourth of the alcohol he had found mere moments ago. Kenny had wasted no time unscrewing the cap from the dusty green bottle atop of the large wooden table. He quickly guzzled down the clear liquid, with haste and without savor.  
The lanky boy watched in fascination as Kenny sucked down the clear liquid, barely having to pause for air. He shuddered at the thought of the older man getting drunk; getting more and more emotionally unbalanced than he already was. He listened for the creak of an opening door, the steps of feet stomping down an old stair case; he heard nothing but the loud swallowing of the man adjacent to him. He prayed for Lee’s return to be quick. Lee was the peacemaker and he liked Ben, the least he would do was calm the older man down. The blonde suddenly shook with the worry of realization; he had let Clementine, Lee’s sole weakness, wander into the walker infested Savannah docks. Lee was also spiteful; maybe he would get no protection from the drunk’s wrath.  
Kenny put down the, now half empty, bottle. He wiped the remaining liquid from his mouth and mustache with the back of his hand.  
“What about you? You have any brilliant ideas?”  
Ben jumped at the sudden voice in the room. He avoided Kenny hard stare.  
“Uh, n-not really, no. I’m not really sure what we could do, especially now that Omid’s hurt.”  
The man grabbed the bottle again, taking a sip before continuing.  
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You never came up with ideas before, why would you now, right?”  
Ben frowned at the insult, but decided not to make things worse by retaliating; he was never one for retaliation anyhow. He simply sat there, watching Kenny get drunker and drunker. The room grew silent again. Ben took his focus off the man and let his eyes wander to the tattered walls and broken furniture scattered around the once expensive home.  
The teen quickly grew bored of looking around; he let his eyes drift to the now silent southerner. He was startled to find the other man eyeing him down, bloodshot eyes focused on the nervous boy. Ben twisted his face away from the man as soon as he could, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Kenny spoke again, this time slower and accent thicker.  
“You’re not much of a talker, are ya’?”  
“No, not really. I’ve always been kind of a quiet person.”  
The gray haired man gave a short laugh and gestured to Ben with his unoccupied hand.  
“Yeah, I can see that. I’m guessing you weren’t so popular with the ladies before all of this, huh?”  
Ben was glaring at Kenny now, rage evident on his expression. Ben was losing his patience. But like always, his fear overpowered his hate; he remained silent as the smashed man babbled on.  
“If you weren’t so meek, people would like you a hell of a lot more. After all, you’re tall n’ blonde; you’re face isn’t bad to look at neither.  
The anger had now subsided and was replaced with deep confusion. The teen couldn’t tell if the other man was mocking him or complimenting him. He chose the latter, for the sake of optimism. Ben decided he liked Kenny a whole lot better when he was smashed; he was a lot nicer to him this way, that’s for sure. Talking to Lee and Clementine was nice, but it got boring when they were the only people to ever talk to. It was nice to chat with new people, even if they would be too hung over to remember what they talked about.  
The highschooler became lost in thought; he didn’t notice the inebriated man plop down next to him on the medium sized sofa. Only when the southerner’s elbow brushed against the sleeve of the letterman did the teen realize he was sitting next to him.  
“Huh, your eyes are blue; blonde hair and blue eyes.”  
Ben shifted his sight away from the older man’s concentrated stare. He felt his face heat up from the invasion of his personal space, as well as the feeling of being observed so closely. He had never received praise for his looks in the past; and he certainly didn’t expect to receive any from Kenny of all people. The teen was confused by the southerner’s attentions, but flattered nonetheless.  
Kenny placidly put the bottle down on the small wooden table in front of him, followed by the pistol that had been nestled in the back of his jeans. The next action Kenny took was one the boy had never seen him do before; he took off his trademark orange hat and tossed it onto the small table with the rest of his belongings.  
The lanky boy felt a pair of hands pulling on his shoulders. That was the only warning the teen got before his slender frame was pulled toward the gray haired man. His lips were smashed against the older man’s, the large, scratchy mustache scraped against the thinner one the boy was sporting. Ben’s mouth, which had been opened in shock, was now being filled by the southerner’s tongue that carried the strong taste of alcohol.  
The taller man shoved the drunk off of him, confusion and horror written on his flushed face.  
“What the hell man? Why- I’m not gay!”  
“Do you think that matters anymore, Ben? The dead are roaming, and the number of living people are less and less every day. We don’t got a boat, we don’t got medicine, we don’t got food; we’ve got nothing! We’re fucked! We might as well live it up while we’re still alive!”  
The teen avoided the older man’s aggressive gaze as he contemplated the proposition.  
Man, Kenny’s really lost everything. He wouldn’t act like this if Katjaa and Duck were here. It’s my fault he’s like this, it’s my fault they’re dead. He deserves to kill me for what I did. The least I could do is give him this; it doesn’t matter how I feel about it.  
Reluctantly, the younger man nodded, dropping his resistance. Kenny quickly resumed his advances, this time kissing the teen’s neck before sucking hard on the pale skin on his collarbone. Ben squirmed under the older man, his back nudging the wooden arm of the sofa. Eager fingers removed the teen’s letterman jacket, the smaller red hoodie, and finally the white tee shirt underneath it all. The older man gave the frail torso a once over before continuing to mark the tender flesh with red, swollen bites.  
Ben had never been intimate with another person before. The only person he had ever kissed had been a girl in the third grade. Now, going way past his personal boundaries, the former student wasn’t sure what to think of his current situation. Despite his confusion, he felt himself harden; his erection pressing against the front of his jeans. He scrunched his eyes closed in embarrassment.  
A sigh of relief left the boy as the southerner withdrew his lips from the, now, reddened skin. The relief was cut short when the teen felt his fly being zipped down; his jeans were pulled down to his mid thigh along with his boxers. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. The younger man was greeted by the sight of the gray haired, mustached man spitting into his palm and grabbing the teen’s hard cock, jerking him off roughly. The thin boy instantly began to whine pitifully, clenching the older man’s green tee shirt with both fists. The man leaned forward, his hot breath brushing against the teen’s ear.  
“This is your first time, ain’t it?”  
Ben averted his gaze away from the smirking man handling his length. His face burned with embarrassment, as well as need. The teen tightened his grip on the man’s shirt as he began to stroke faster, rubbing his thumb over the moistened slit. As his climax drew closer, the blonde boy became increasingly vocal, letting out highly pitched noises in time with the expert strokes. The southerner suddenly paused in his handjob and clamped an unoccupied hand over the teen’s mouth, giving him an annoyed glare. He whispered harshly in the boy’s ear.  
“Quiet down! Do you want the others to come down here and see you like this?”  
A chill ran down the highschooler’s spine when he thought of either Christa or Molly seeing him being jerked off by a man old enough to be his father. He quickly nodded, adding a muffled apology as Kenny withdrew his hand. The gray haired man slipped off the boy’s jeans and underwear completely before whispering to him again.  
“Flip over.”  
The taller man obeyed, now kneeling on the smooth upholstery, his sweaty hands grasped the wooden arm of the couch. Callused hands traveled in between his thighs, hastily spreading them apart. The teen craned his neck to get a better view of the man’s actions behind him. The man grabbed the forgotten green bottle, pouring a small amount of liquid into his palm. He coated his middle and index finger with the clear unnamed alcohol.  
Kenny approached the naked boy, reaching around to grab the throbbing erection. The needy blonde uttered a shaky moan while the older man stroked him long and hard, the hand slicked with precum. The euphoria was cut short as the teen felt a moist finger circle his puckered hole; the finger forced its way inside before curling up and twisting around. Ben immediately bit his lower lip to prevent any sounds of discomfort from escaping.  
The mustached man spent no time adding a second finger into the tight crevice, scissoring the tender flesh. The teen gripped the wooden armchair until his knuckles where white; he prayed Kenny would stop soon. He felt the thick fingers go deeper and deeper inside of him, stretching him out, making him feel dirtier than had ever felt in his entire life.  
Just as the younger man was about to beg Kenny to stop, his face turned a darker shade of red and his cock began to throb; he covered his mouth with both of his hands to muffle the obscenities he was voicing. The southerner felt the teen writhe under his touch; he chuckled as he continued to massage the sensitive organ inside of him.  
Once the boy was stretched enough, the fully clothed man withdrew his fingers slowly. His smile was one of pride when he heard the teen utter a whine of disappointment from the loss of the fingers. He pulled out his own hard cock from his worn jeans, proceeding to lube it up with the green bottle’s liquid once again. The older man exhaled as he forced his way into the boy’s virgin hole.  
Ben gritted his teeth as his insides ripped around the thick organ that plunged inside of him. The alcohol, being an inadequate lubricant stung his torn insides; he clenched his whole body to try and brace himself against the merciless thrusts delivered by the man above him. The older man pulled out half way before slamming back inside the weeping boy, completely sheathing himself inside. The teen started to bit the back of his hand as a way to stop himself from sobbing too loudly; the last thing he wanted was someone to hear his pathetic cries.  
Kenny dug his fingertips into the boy’s boney hips as he increased his pace, his thrusts now smoother; the blood and precum eased the way. The blonde switched from biting his hand to whimpering quietly into his forearm in pain and embarrassment. A sweaty hand reached for the teen’s waning erection. He desperately tried to focus on the hand that stroked him rather than focusing on the searing pain in his backside. After what seemed like hours of agony, the southerner, once again, hit the small organ deep inside the teen.  
Ben was going in between moans and quiet swears every time the thick cock pounded against the deepest part of him. The slender fingers had an iron grip on the wood between the two sweaty palms. The older man was thrusting rapidly now, his climax fast approaching. The boy took to high pitched swears each time the man hilted inside of him; cursing through clenched teeth.  
“Aw fuck!”  
The teen came in pleasure and in pain, his seed covering his stomach, the couch cushions under him, and all over the southerner’s hand. The man thrusted into the former student for a while longer; he grunted loudly with his sweaty palms still on the thin hips. Kenny dug his chipped nails into the pale hips before he came hard into the tall boy under him.  
Ben stayed perfectly still, not wanting to be the first one to say something. He felt Kenny shift positions before pulling out and tucking his length back into his pants. After a long stretch of silence, the teen slowly turned his head back, To Ben’s surprise, the southerner had fallen asleep in the chair he had been sitting in originally. He figured it would be best not to wake the man from his drunken stupor; he’d leave that job for Lee.  
The naked man stood up shakily, his insides still torn and sore from his recent ordeal. He glanced down at his thighs; a pink mixture of blood and semen trailing down the inner portion of his pale legs. Finding nothing in his vicinity to clean the mess, the teen pulled on his boxers and jeans, followed by his shirt, hoodie, and letterman jacket. Shifty eyes scanned the room for possible witnesses; all he found was an empty room filled with its typical silence.  
He peered down at the small wooden table that held Kenny’s belongings; the dusty green bottle was still there. Peering at the stairs for witnesses once more, Ben grabbed the bottle and downed the rest of its meager amount in a single gulp. His long legs rested on the small table in front of him, his arms comfortably resting behind his head. He glanced toward Kenny briefly, then at the back door. The adolescent silently awaited Lee’s return.


End file.
